Bedtime Stories
by estrafalaria103
Summary: When Rose asks her father the question "Where do babies come from" he remembers a story Molly once told him. But when shes asks "where did I come from?" He remembers something altogether different. . .


Ron's job was to put the children to bed. It was a job that he loved, tucking them in, reading a bedtime story, and singing a soft song. Hermione hated it. She couldn't understand why they would fall asleep during a story, and always wanted to quiz them at the end. Besides, her stories didn't make much sense to the children.

"Why did Cinderella need a fairy godmother?" Rose had asked once. "Why didn't she just hex her sisters?"

"Well. . ." Hermione said. "Cinderella was a Muggle."

"Oh," Rose frowned. "Then why didn't the Ministry of Magic come and Obliviate her?"

"Um. . ."

Hermione hadn't been allowed to tell any bedtime stories after that.

"There, now, comfy?" Ron asked, half-perched on his daughter's bed. On the other side, her brother was already softly snoring.

"Yes," Rose said. Her eyelids blinked softly over drowsy eyes. Ron planted a soft kiss on her forehead. He turned off the light and turned to head downstairs.

"Daddy?" his baby girl asked softly.

"Yes?"

"Where do babies come from?"

Ron smiled at that, and sat back down on the bed. He remembered the story that his mother had told him when he'd asked. "Babies come from all sorts of different places," he said. "That's why all people are so different."

"Oh," Rose said, and for a moment, Ron thought he was done for the night.

"Daddy?" she asked again. "Where did I come from?"

* * * *

Hermione stared at the phone. Ring, she demanded of it. _Ring_. Darn it all, she'd never been much good at wandless spells.

"Stop staring at the phone," A bored voice intoned from the kitchen. "It's not going to start ringing just because you stare at it."

"I know that," Hermione said crankily. "I'm just worried. They were supposed to be home yesterday." With a sigh, she stood up and headed into the kitchen, where Ginny was calmly stirring a pot of soup. "I mean, maybe they couldn't send an owl, but they could have at least _called_. I taught Ron how to use a telephone. And Harry certainly knows!"

"Stop worrying," Ginny said. "Here, go wake up James. It's time for lunch."

"I don't understand how you can be so complacent," Hermione said, as she picked the baby up and brought him to the table. She didn't dare wake the thing up -- it always screamed and fussed so much. She honestly didn't know whether she was cut out to be a mother – children frightened her. There was no understanding them, and she'd done enough research to recognize that was a fact. She knew Ron wanted a big family, but he might have to settle for a puppy. Children were just. . .strange.

"You should be used to it, too," Ginny said. "Ron's been an Auror just as long as Harry."

"I suppose. . ."Hermione sighed. She uncertainly held out the baby until Ginny took it, and then began ladling soup out. "It's just. . .he's never been called out when I was on holiday before. I don't have anything to do but worry! There's not work!"

Ginny dubiously poked James, who obligingly broke into loud screams before being mollified by a plate of baby carrots, which he gleefully began hurling around the room. "Maybe you and Ron should think about having a baby," she suggested, as she got on her hands and knees to begin retrieving vegetables. "Then there's _always_ work to be done."

Hermione watched as James proceeded to smear prunes across his face, and Ginny continued her hunt for carrots. On the other hand, worrying wasn't so horrible. . .

* * * *

"Bloody hell!" Ron gasped, as he and Harry hunkered below the half-exploded door. "This might be it, mate."

"It's just a scenario, Ron," Harry said wearily. Ron always got like this during training sessions—all hyped up and overly excited. During actual attacks he was calm and collected – Harry just couldn't understand it.

"Listen," Ron said, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'm going in. If I don't make it. . .I want you to go on without me. Tell Hermione I love her, but I want her to move on with her life. I need you to take care of her for me."

"Ron," Harry said, his words short and clearly separated. "It's just training. Calm down."

"Tell her. . ." Ron sighed, and looked dreamily to the sky. "Tell her she was my everything. Tell her that I'll be there with her always, in the whispering of the wind, and the softest rays of sunset. Tell her that when the rain falls softly on her face, those are my tears, that when the wheat blows in the breeze it is my breath, telling her that I love her."

"Do you ever say these things to her?" Harry asked. He thought he was going to be sick.

"Kiss her for me, Harry," Ron said, and his eyes looked manic. "Kiss her, and hold her tight, and"

"You _do_ remember that I'm married, right?" Harry asked. "To you sister? I have a kid."

Ron crushed Harry in a tight embrace, lifted his wand above his head, and dashed out from behind concealment, screaming.

"Weasley!" The intercom screamed. "This is a training session! What do you think you're doing????"

* * * *

"Look, sir, this really doesn't have anything to do with me," Harry said beseechingly. "I just happened to be in the wrong place, with the wrong person. Can I just go home?"

"No!" Dawlish exclaimed. "This has happened one too many times! I just don't understand. . .you've never failed at a mission, but these training sessions always go horribly awry!"

Harry glanced over at Ron, who's head was down. A familiar red tinge had spread over his ears. Harry sighed. He clearly wasn't going to get any help from his so-called best mate.

"We're very sorry, it won't happen again," Harry said sullenly.

"Darn right, it won't!" Dawlish exclaimed. "You two will never be allowed in the training sessions again!"

This seemed to waken Ron. He looked up with a horrified expression on his face. Harry had to fight to keep from laughing—it was the very same expression he'd had after receiving the antidote to the Romilda Vane love potion – utter despair.

"And you have just one last chance to stay with the Aurors," Dawlish said. "A very top-secret mission. If you succeed, we'll keep you on—"

"With training sessions?" Ron asked in a hopeful, pathetic voice.

"No," Dawlish said firmly. "No training sessions." He handed over a sheet of paper "Those are the coordinates. You'll be briefed on the way."

"Can we owl our wives, at least?" Harry asked. "They'll be expecting us."

"There is a fellyphone at the site," Dawlish said curtly. "You may make do with that."

Without another word, the head of the Aurors disapparated. Harry sighed and turned to his friend.

"Now look what you've gotten us into," he said. "Another suicide mission!"

"I know," Ron said miserably. "Hermione's going to kill me."

* * * *

"I'm going to kill him," Hermione said. Ginny glanced warningly at James' cradle, and the other woman took her voice down several decibels. "I'm going to wring his scrawny, freckled neck. Don't you laugh! Because when I'm done with him I'm going after your husband."

"He survived Voldemort," Ginny said mildly. "I think he'll be able to survive your wrath."

"Don't bet on it," Hermione said brandishing her wand furiously. Several small canaries burst from the tip. Hermione blushed. "Sorry."

"Look, Hermione," Ginny said, sighing as she stood. "You've got to get over this obsession. The boys are going to be doing a lot of dangerous work, and you're going to be doing a lot of waiting on them. That's just the way it goes. Then, whenever you get pregnant—"

"Never," Hermione prayed fervently.

"Ron will stand around worrying obsessively over you."

"It's just that I'm used to being with them," Hermione said. "It's the trio. Not the duo, and Hermione sits at home like a good little housewife."

"I never thought I'd be a little housewife, either," Ginny said. "But it's not horrible. Stop dismissing it."

"I'm not dismissing it," Hermione said hotly. "It would just be a waste of my intelligence!"

"Oh, but it's not a waste of mine?" Ginny asked hotly. "I think maybe you should get out of here."

"Funny," Hermione said. "What if something went wrong?"

"Then it would have been in the post," Ginny said. "I'm going to bed. You can keep wandering around, worrying and making yourself sick if you'd like."

Hermione watched as her friend went gracefully up the stairs. She then plopped down in the couch, and looked idly at the clock placed above the Potters mantle. Ginny and James' hands were pointing at "home", Hermione's at "visiting", and Ron and Harry's on "work." Well, she supposed that had to count for something. They were at work, just at work. Thank goodness the hands weren't pointing at. . .

And then they moved.

* * * *

Harry was pretty certain he'd never been in this tight a pickle before. And considering that he'd spent most of his adolescence battling the Darkest Wizard of their Time, that was saying something.

"Ron," he said to his best mate. "This might really be the end."

"Oh, sod off," Ron said crossly. "If Voldemort didn't finish us, then a few misplaced Loyalists aren't going to."

"But they have our wands," Harry said helplessly. Ron nodded slowly, and then abruptly his face broke into a huge grin.

"That's it!" he said excitedly. "Harry, you're a genius!"

"How do you mean?"

"They have our wands. . .and our Portkey, right?"

"I suppose," Harry said, He glanced over his friends shoulder. Their wands lay in the pocket of one of the Loyalists. The portkey, forgotten or unnoticed, had been kicked across the room.

"And which do they expect us to come for?"

Harry was beginning to see where this was going, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Ron, I'm not going to escape with the portkey while you distract them in a bid for your wand."

"Yes, Harry, you are," Ron said, that old determined look in his eye. "Our mission was to find their location and report back. Besides, if I left you, Ginny would kill me, and then nobody would deliver the message."

Harry considered for a moment, and had to acknowledge the validity of the statement. He nodded, agreeing. He simply couldn't see another way out of the situation.

"On three, then," Ron said, his face drawn and tight.

"Wait. . ."Harry held up a hand. "Isn't there a message you want me to leave Hermione?"

"Oh, yeah," Ron thought for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. "Tell her to record the Cannons game tomorrow night if you haven't rescued me by then." Without another word Ron closed his eyes, girded himself for battle, and burst out of their hiding place with a mighty roar. Harry followed a moment later, dashing toward the Portkey which glimmered just out of sight. As his fingers clutched the dirty shoelace he thought he heard a strangled "Gryffindor!" from behind him, but then the world went wavy and strange and suddenly he found himself

-PLONK!

In the middle of his and Ginny's apartment, staring up at a very surprised Hermione.

* * * *

"Look, Mrs. Weasley, we are doing all that we can," Dawlish said in a very calm voice.

"No, you're not," Hermione replied, trying very hard to keep calm. "You know the coordinates where my husband last was. You could be sending a rescue mission."

"That would jeopardize the security of the information which your husband was so keen to collect," Dawlish said. "You and I both know that Ron wouldn't ever want to jeopardize a mission."

"Well, maybe," Harry piped up. 'If, you know, it would get him uncaptured." Everyone took a moment to stare at him, before returning to the matter at hand.

"Look at this," Hermione said. Surprisingly to Harry, she pulled out the clock he and Ginny kept above the mantle. "You see this?" she asked, pointing at Ron's hand on the clock. "Mortal danger. Doesn't want warrant a rescue attempt?"

"Now, now, Mrs. Weasley," Dawlish said soothingly. "It's just a clock, after all."

"Just a clock!" Hermione sputtered, but couldn't manage to get another word out. As she continued to chock and spurt out little bubbles of unintelligible sounds, Ginny came up and calmly placed a sleeping James in her arms. The young redhead then walked directly up to Dawlish, pulled out her wand, and pushed it dangerously close to his nostrils.

"Now you listen to me," she said firmly. "Ronald Bilius Weasley is the best friend of the Chosen one, the husband of the smartest witch alive, and MY brother. And if you don't immediately launch a rescue mission, I will BatBogey Hex you into the deepest, darkest pits of hell."

"Can she do that?" Dawlish asked nervously over her shoulder. Harry shrugged.

"Once she batboogeyed George so that he couldn't talk for two weeks."

"Try me," Ginny ground out between clenched teeth.

"Well, look," Dawlish said. He lifted his arms in a mime of surrender. "I can't let any of my men head there. . .it could destroy all the work we've put into building this case. But if you can find a few volunteers, I might be able to accidently leave a Portkey lying on the steps outside in, say, an hour."

Ginny waved her wand a little. Dawlish started to sweat.

"That will be just fine," Harry said, grabbing his wife's arm and pulling her away from his boss. "Very generous. Thank you very much, sir."

"Bat bogey!" Ginny said threateningly.

"Yes, dear," Harry said. "But let's not bat bogey the nice Auror until after he gives us a Portkey."

Hermione followed after the couple, Jame still happily snacking on dream food.

"I think I should go alone," Harry said, as soon as they exited the building.

"Not bloody likely!" Ginny spit out.

"I concur," Hermione said. "Come on, Harry. . .you always want to run off and do things yourself, but you have to admit, sometimes you need help."

"I know," Harry said. "But Ron's been my help, for the best year. Let's face it. . .you two are out of practice. Besides, I still have my Invisibility Cloak. It will cover me, and maybe Ron, but definitely nobody else."

The women continued to stare with resolute faces.

"Not convinced?" Harry asked. They shook their heads.

"Urm. Well, I suppose. . ." Abruptly, Harry turned, grabbed the Portkey, and vanished.

"Did he. . .just ditch us?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted.

"He's not getting any for a month," Ginny said flatly.

* * * *

"I hate feeling left behind," Hermione grumbled some more as they entered the Potter's flat.

"Welcome to my existence when you three were at school," Ginny said. She placed the slumbering James back in his crib.

"It really stinks," Hermione sighed.

"Tell me about it," Ginny agreed.

"What would you do, if one day Harry didn't come back?" Hermione asked. Ginny shook her head and sat down.

"Please, don't even talk like that," she said. "Just don't."

"They are in very dangerous jobs," Hermione considered, joining her friend on the couch. "It's a very reasonable possibility. You should be prepared."

"Well, what would you do if Ron didn't come back?" Ginny retorted.

"I would. . .well. . ." Hermione shook her head. "That's entirely different! Harry's my best friend, and Ron is everything!"

"And Ron is my brother, and Harry is my everything!" Ginny replied. "I think brother trumps friend. I have way more to lose than you. You three always forgot that!"

"Oh," Hermione sighed. "I suppose I'd just have to continue with life. I suppose that's what he'd want."

Ginny considered. Taking into account her brother's fiercely jealous side, she wasn't entirely certain that he wouldn't rather the idea of Hermione wasting away, destroyed by her loss. Instead of saying that, however, she said, "I suppose so. At least I have James."

"Great," Hermione said. "Being a single mother. Sounds like a great deck of cards."

"I will always have a little bit of Harry with me," Ginny said, tenderly gazing at the cradle. "Even if Harry didn't come back. . .I'd still have him, in James' eyes, and nose, and hair."

"Well I would still have Ron in. . .um. . ."Hermione stalled for a moment as she thought. "In his Chudley Cannon boxers."

Ginny stared at her for a moment, and then broke into loud giggles. Hermione was affronted for a moment, but then gave into laughter herself. It was a little ridiculous, comparing a pair of soiled boxers to a breathing little baby.

Just then, with a loud POP! Harry and Ron appeared in the middle of the room. Ron was cradling one arm against his chest, and have a spectacular bruise forming around one eye, while Harry looked none the worst for wear.

"Hi, Ginny, hi Hermione," Harry said cheerily. "Look who I found."

Ginny rose and gave her husband a hug. Hermione merely stared at Ron for a moment. He gave her a half-hearted, lopsided smile, and her heart melted. She flew into his arms.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" she breathed in, smelling that beautiful familiar combination of sweat, blood, spearmint toothpaste, and just _Ron_. She looked up at him for a moment, into his blue eyes, and said "I'm serious."

"I know, sweetie," he said.

For good measure she hit him on the head. Hard. "Don't," she ordered.

"Okay! Blimey!" Ron rubbed his head with his good arm. He looked over at Harry and Ginny, who were passionately entangled. "Harry comes home and gets a proper welcome," he grumbled. "And I get a whack on the head for my troubles."

Hermione scowled at him. "Let's get you cleaned up," she said, grabbing him by his bad arm and ignoring his squeals of protest.

She dragged him into the bathtub, and while he grumbled, whined, and complained she drew a bath. When she turned around he'd disrobed, and she was stunned to see that his right arm was a brilliant rainbow of bruises. She walked over, and gently drew her wand down the arm. The skin was a softer pattern now, and Ron blew out a relieved breath.

"Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," Hermione said. She was trembling a little now, remembering that feeling of almost losing him. She stepped toward him, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Does this mean I don't have to take a bath?" he asked hopefully.

"No," Hermione said. "You smell like crap." He sighed, released her, and sat down into the bathtub. As always, his long frame didn't quite fit. His knees peeked out in the middle, and his toes at the other end. He sighed and closed his eyes. Hermione tiptoed to the side of the tub, and laid a gentle kiss on his long nose.

"I love you, Ronald Bilius Weasley," she said.

"Even when I smell like crap? " he asked, opening one eye to peer at her.

"Even when you smell like crap," she agreed.

"You know what I love?" he asked. Hermione shrugged. With an abrupt, quick movement, one of his long arms snaked out of the tub, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her in atop him. "I love you in here with me," he said. For once, Hermione didn't argue.

Downstairs, Ginny and Harry glanced up at the sound of a body hitting the water.

"Gross," Harry said. Ginny just sighed.

"We'll have to hire in someone to clean the bathroom again," she said. She glanced crossly at her husband. "Couldn't you have apparated to their flat?"

Harry considered. "Good idea," he said. "Next time, I'll do that."

"Good," Ginny said. They both winced as they heard a squeal of pleasure from above. "Very, very good."

* * * * *

Eight months, three weeks, and two days later, Rose Emily Weasley was born.

* * * *

Ron gazed down at his baby girl, her lids almost shut. He kissed first one, and then the other.

"Where did you come from?" he said softly. "You came from a garden, of tulips and lilies and roses – the most beautiful flowers in all the world."

"Oh," she said sleepily. "And that's why I'm named Rose?"

"Exactly," Ron said.

He thought it probably wasn't a good idea to tell her that the shampoo in Harry and Ginny's bathroom had been Chamomile and Roses. Maybe when she was a little older. He shuddered at that idea. Then again, maybe never.


End file.
